For Broadway habitués and Hell’s Kitchen residents, the opening of this pescatarian restaurant, on the fringes of the theatre district, is very good news. Gloria infuses the neighborhood—where margarita happy hours and loaded tater tots are honored traditions—with downtown cool bolstered by an élite seafood pedigree. The chef, Diego Garcia, and the manager, Phil Johnson, met under the auspices of Eric Ripert—Garcia was a sous chef at Ripert’s fish temple, Le Bernardin, and Johnson a sommelier at his haute wine bar, Aldo Sohm. After a stint together at Contra, a Lower East Side mecca of the innovative affordable tasting menu, the two decided to strike out on their own. The concept for Gloria, Johnson said, began as a challenge: “Can we do this without any meat at all?” The answer: “Yes, we can.”

The minimalist menu, stocked with sustainable fish and seafood from the Atlantic Ocean, keeps things mysterious, with descriptions like “squid, walnut, ink, cauliflower.” The first item is the simplest: cornbread, a crunchy-moist round that telegraphs “we’re humble and casual,” while the accompanying cultured butter says, “but it’s going to be amazing.” Many of the dishes are meticulously staged, arranged in neat circles garnished with wild tangles of green tendrils or magenta radish spirals. They’re also delicious—Garcia, who was born in Mexico and grew up in Napa, has a knack for getting to the essence of flavors. Chopped scallops, slightly cooked to bring out the sweetness, get kicked into hyperdrive with a bright-green purée of asparagus and kale; a copious amount of Jonah crab is covered with a luscious saffron-scented bouillabaisse sabayon, the richness cut with peppery nasturtium leaves.

If you look closely, you will discover an open secret: the menu is entirely gluten-free. Johnson says that about one out of four diners asks for gluten-free options, so they just went with it. In main dishes like wild striped bass with a red-wine-butter emulsion, and fried whole snapper served with a little copper pot of lobster sauce, neither gluten nor meat is missed. The most unassuming dish, a bowl of Rancho Gordo beans—tender and saline in a mussel broth with a basil pistou—is a sleeper hit.

Care is taken everywhere: vases of wildflowers, low lighting that echoes the glow of evening’s magic hour, bathroom signs that read “Whichever.” What neighborhood wouldn’t welcome a beautification project? When Johnson was planting a maple tree in front of the restaurant, a local passerby voiced his approval: “Love the tree.” (Entrées $18-$39.)♦